


Will You Die for Him?

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Series: #666foryou [364]
Category: Damien (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Missing Scene, Possible Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 13:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8145119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: "Will you die for him?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Date Written: 25-26 September 2016  
> Word Count: 1767  
> Written for: rutledgeisqueen & Ms-Three  
> Prompt: The image in [ this tweet](https://twitter.com/3226629/status/780084838451720193) and the description in [ this tweet](https://twitter.com/3226629/status/780085542742470660)  
> Summary: "Will you die for him?"  
> Spoilers: Canon divergent missing scene that takes place during and after the events of episode 01x07 "Abattoir," with references to episode 01x08 "This Is Wisdom." Beyond that, everything we learned in these 10 episodes is up for grabs.  
> Warnings: No standard warnings apply.  
> Series: #666foryou  
> Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Doggie Duo  
> Link to: http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/   
> Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & AO3 only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…  
> Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> Author’s Disclaimer: "Damien," "The Omen," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Glen Mazzara, David Seltzer, 20th Century Fox Television, Fox 21, and A&E Television Networks. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Damien," "The Omen," A&E, or any representatives of the actors.
> 
> Author’s Notes: First things first, the dialogue in the second section of this fic, with the exception of Ann's final two words, is directly from episode 01x07 "Abattoir," via [ Forever Dreaming's _Damien_ transcripts](http://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewforum.php?f=588). The idea for this fic came from a drawing of Ms-Three's that I saw on Twitter, as well as another conversation she had with rutledgequeen. Both links are provided up in the prompt section of these headers. The title for this fic, as well as the line that Abaddon speaks in the third section come from dialogue spoken in the movie, _The Seventh Sign_ , which has been a favorite of mine pretty much since it came out.
> 
> That said, I fully expect some people to want to kill me for writing this because I _really_ had a lot of fun with this fic. I wasn't sure when it would stop or just how far the muses were willing to take it. I admit that I probably could have pushed the envelope a little more yet. And yes, for those who noticed, it was completely a coincidence that I kind of mirrored a situation from another of Barbara Hershey's characters in this one. I didn't even realize it until well after I'd committed to the fic, and so I just went with it.
> 
> Dedication: This is part of a series of stories to thank the phenomenal creative team of _Damien_ , both in front of and behind the camera.
> 
> Beta: theonlyspl

She sits on the ground, leaning up against the desk, with the bulk of his torso pressed back against her chest. His breaths are slow, labored, and his skin is clammy. She doesn't remember taking off his shirt to assess the damage, but he is clad only in his jeans, so she must have. Blood trickles down from the wound to pool in the space between his side and her thigh, soaking into her pants. 

She can barely breathe herself, every expansion of her lungs searing pain through her chest. The tears keep coming; she's not even sure how she can continue to cry. His body weights her down, but she doesn't care. She deserves the numbing pain for failing him _again_. She never should have brought the damned dagger to him in the first place. This was one of the stupidest ideas she's ever had, and her plan to get him to tell the truth backfired spectacularly.

The dagger is still in her hand, the same hand pressing feebly against the wound. She stares at the dark red of blood tainting the blade, the same blood that paints his pale skin in lurid shades of death. She wants to curse the dagger, curse him for taking the opportunity she offered him, curse herself for even giving him the option in the first place.

"Damien," she whispers brokenly. "Please, Damien, open your eyes. You're stronger than this. Damien, _please_."

~~~20 minutes earlier~~~

"He came to me for this." She holds the dagger out where he can plainly see it. The shock on his face barely registers, and he leans back against the desk as she continues her explanation. "There are seven of them. Each to be used on a different point on your body." It hurts to say the words, but she has never lied to him, and she never will. If he wants the truth of what is potentially awaiting him, particularly if the Vatican gets involved, then she won't sugarcoat any of it for him. "If each are placed correctly, your spirit and life will cease to exist."

"What good is one?" There is curiosity in his voice, the earlier hardness lessening just a fraction.

Swallowing painfully, she looks at him now and sees things in those pale eyes that she can't quite name. "It would probably end your life." _And mine_ , she thinks, but wisely keeps that line of thinking to herself for the moment. "Isn't that what you want?" She wants him to prove her wrong, give her a sign that he will accept his destiny, but his face is unreadable. "The power wants what It wants. It'll choose another." There's an entire history of that happening, one as embedded in her psyche as her own. "We're all marching toward Golgotha. Right now, you bear the cross."

What ironically appropriate wording. And what else is she to say to him?

"So if I die, another takes my place," he says with a hard swallow, head tilting as he studies her face. She weathers his scrutiny, owing him at least that much alongside her fealty, and ignores the tear falling to soak into her jacket. "Why would you give me the option?"

She's been asking herself that ever since she put the dagger in her purse to drive to his loft. But she knows her answer, and she has a sneaking suspicion that he's beginning to understand it himself. The tears blur her vision, but she keeps staring in his direction. "I'm not like Lyons." How does she put into words that she is his, right down to the tiniest atoms in her body, the very essence of her soul? What will make him understand that his life, his destiny is everything to her? "I dedicated my... _self_ to you." Her heart leaps into her throat, making swallowing even harder. "I'm here to serve."

He stares at her for a long moment, eyes darting between her face and the dagger balanced on her fingertips. She can't move, can barely breathe, and she locks her knees to keep from collapsing to the ground. As he carefully gets to his feet, the breath catches in her chest, lungs refusing to obey for a handful of seconds. Walking toward her, his eyes are glued to the metal in her hands. She fights the urge to tremble under his scrutiny, wanting to be the strong disciple that she is and always has been.

When he reaches out his left hand, cupping her right, she shifts her grip to wrap her fingers around the hilt of the dagger, letting him guide her arm upward as the blade swings out toward his chest. Each millimeter that it moves, her pulse races just a little more until it practically thunders in her ears. The sensation of his warm, lightly calloused palm engulfing her smaller hand is both a comfort and a terror as he places it where he wants. And then he drops his hand and takes a step forward, the tip of the dagger pressing just to the left of his sternum. Another step, and he leans forward toward her. His left hand comes up again, trapping her hand so she can't escape what is coming, and his eyes bore into hers. She sucks in an audible breath, along with moisture from her tears, and brings her left hand up to wrap around her right and his fingers.

"If this is what you want."

It hurts like hell to say the words, to know what it is he asks of her. He leans in again, eyes dark and taunting, fingers tightening around her hand. She can feel the slight shift as the tip pierces the material of his shirt. She wants to obey, wants to prove that she can and will do anything he asks of her, even killing him. She wants to prove herself.

But she can't. The thought of losing him, of wasting everything she's dedicated her entire life to, is enough to fill her with remorse as she relaxes her grip and leans back ever so slightly. Her eyes drop from his, more tears spilling down her cheeks at her failure _again_. Damien takes the dagger from her, still staring so intently at her, and she tries to meet his gaze again. Her weakness for this man will be the death of her. He grips the dagger in his hand, but doesn't move away or avert his gaze. She slumps back against the light table, guilt-ridden over her inability to follow through.

Before she fully understands what's happening, Damien grabs for her left wrist, forcing the dagger into her hand, and lunges forward. She feels when the blade pierces cloth, skin, and muscle, skittering off his sternum and probably a rib before coming to a stop.

" _NO!_ " she screams, trying to pull her hand away. "Damien!"

He grunts, face contorting from the pain, but holds her hand where it is. And then a smile curls up his lips and he coughs, a bit of blood flecking the spittle escaping his mouth. The second his hand goes the slightest bit slack, she pulls her hand away from the dagger as he stumbles backward toward the desk. Her body is suddenly moving, reaching for him as he falls.

~~~present~~~

"Damien, please don't do this. You are destined for so much." Her throat is raw from crying, and her eyes burn.

His chest is barely moving, breaths rasping in his throat, and she can feel his heart slowly beating in time. She rests her cheek against the top of his head, eyes closing to let more tears escape. He moans softly, eyelids fluttering, and she feels fresh blood slick against her cheek. Glancing down, she realizes the new blood is from his skull. He hadn't hit his head, and she wasn't hurt at all, so she's not sure where this blood is coming from.

"This isn't right," she whispers raggedly. "The Power wants what It wants, but why would the Power allow this to happen?" The more she speaks, the louder her voice becomes until she's practically screaming in rage. "I have never questioned what has been asked of me. I have served faithfully practically my entire life. I have only ever wanted to be near the Antichrist, to serve fully with every fiber of my being. I have done everything I was asked up until this point. Why is this happening? Why is Power so bent on taking away everything that matters to me? My first daughter is dead, my second practically estranged, and now Damien? The man I practically raised from childhood? What have I done to deserve such punishment? Tell me! What have I done to deserve this? _He_ doesn't deserve this!"

Movement near the door draws her attention, and she fears that her shouting has brought about witnesses to this horror. Glancing up, she sees the old woman, the one from the pictures in Damascus. One eye is black as coal, the other milky white, but the fire of Power dances in both. She walks closer to them.

"Wh-Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"What would you do to save him?"

She blinks at the question, but her answer is readily on her lips. "Anything."

"Would you die for him?"

"What?"

The old woman's gaze intensifies. "Will you die for him?"

She feels Damien's heartbeat slowing even more, and fear floods her at the thought of losing him. " _Yes!_ "

"So it shall be."

Pain blossoms in her chest as she watches Damien's eyes flutter more purposefully. Fire races along her nerves until she screams in agony.

~~~***~~~

Ann bolts upright in her bed, a scream echoing in the air around her. It takes a moment to realize the scream is hers. Her heart pounds in her chest as she gasps for breath, hands checking her chest for wounds that don't exist. Realization that it was a dream slowly dawns on her, that Damien never attempted to kill himself with her dagger, and she gets up to head downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water, if not something stronger.

As she passes the library and the hidden entrance to the shrine, she feels the pull of the dagger locked safely away. Hands trembling slightly in the aftermath of her nightmare, she tries to wipe away her tears. "Tomorrow, I need to destroy that dagger," she promises herself. "If they don't have all seven, they can't kill him. I'll raze the whole planet if it means destroying all of the daggers so that he lives."


End file.
